The Afterlife of Harry Dresden
by LynchingVerse
Summary: The extended visions of the afterlife of Harry Dresden after he died at the end of Twilight VIII. Originally by Cracklord.
1. Chapter 1

My name is Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. Maybe you've heard of me.  
>I'm dead, and in purgatory, the sixth layer of the Nevernever if you're interested in looking me up, on a corner of what appears to be Chicago, albeit deserted and with unceasing rain like the mother of all film noir settings, and I'm thinking. I do it surprisingly often, yet people are always surprised.<p>

At the moment, I am hacking my way through something of an existential crisis, and making very little in the way of progress. When you get right down to it, down to the brass tacks if you will, what I call myself is a wizard. And that's really who I am, toss in a bit of pop-culture geek and Private Detective who's read too many Raymond Chandler novels if you must, but in the end, it all leads up to wizard.  
>But magic doesn't exist, I hear you say. Well, could have fooled me. And if you're so smart, what are you doing here standing in the most disappointing afterlife imaginable talking to a long dead man? No answer? Good. Now be quiet, I'm trying to tell you how I wound up here.<p>

So I'm a member of the part of the world that knows the truth, the secrets hidden from the rest. I'm not part of the Inquisition who actually forces all the various agencies to keep the secret on pain of pain, which I am very thankful for, they all seem like pretty boring guys so I doubt they'd have me if I applied, but just the same, I'm one of the lucky few who are in the know. I'm in on the secret, if you get my meaning. At least, that's what I believed until a week before I died, in which I learned that no, I'm just as ignorant as everyone else on the insignificant speck I come from. Moreso, perhaps.

It was humbling, which would normally be good for me, but in context if just felt excessively cruel.  
>Now, at the time I was too angry, flat-out terrified and otherwise emotional to really sit down and have a think about where it left me, and besides I didn't have time to, but I can now say without any doubt whatsoever that the universe is even bigger than imagination. And that scares me almost as much as some of the people who live in it.<p>

The first thing to hit me was my smart-alec tendencies, and I suddenly don't feel so clever anymore. Calling someone a Ringwriath seems funny until you cross paths with the real thing and just about wet yourself in terror, then start crying for your mother. I'd seen some bad things up until that point, make no mistake, I'd love to forget all of them, but little compares. And once you do see that sort of thing, and are hit with the realization that it's all true, then you stop feeling oh so clever with your insults and start feeling like a little boy alone in the woods whistling in the dark to keep his mind off the shapes his imagination keeps on populating the murk with.

Comparing someone to a ridiculous super-villain seems funny, and then one of those super-vilains walks in out of nowhere after suddenly having been there all along, and takes over the country in a fair election. I wasn't there to actually see it, but we get a few souls on their way to their final destination who keep us appraised of the situation before they move on, but it's still enough to make me feel like climbing a tower and screaming defiance at the heavens who seem to enjoy insulting me.

The other thing is why I'm still hanging around, why I don't just bit the bullet and cross the curtain to joint the choir invisible, instead of hanging around here with a bunch of other cops accosting passing spirits and keeping them safe from demons and other nasties who plan to steal them on the way to their final journey up the river. It would be so easy, but I keep on holding myself back, and resigning myself to the fact that I would be here for a long, long time.

Why? Because, like Clint Eastwood before me, I had unfinished business. His name was Randall Flagg, or at least it was most of the time. And he was responsible for everything wrong with the universe at the moment, at least as far as I could see.

Melodramatic? Shut up and listen. What do you know. A while ago, he'd found the nexus that was the center of all the infinite universes. And he'd decided to use that to take over everything. I'm not sure what his plans were after that, he didn't seem to think I'd understand them, but his execution was pretty good. Find another badguy with plenty of power and intelligence but not much good old fashioned insight and an ego to match, glue his lips firmly to said badguys arse while passing on some advice, and take him to the Dark Tower. That way, his patsy would serve as a fallguy who would take all the heat while he could sit back and experiment, as well as get rid of the band of unlikely heroes that would try and stop him.

Oh, and be an evil bastard, too. Mustn't forget that. I've been hit while I'm down, but never like he hit me. He had my friends killed. Almost all of them. He raped my apprentice, then handed her over to a man just as soulless and sadistically evil as he. He killed my brother, along with most of my friends that he didn't get the first time. And that's just the start of it. All to get me following him.

Well, I came to the Tower, much good it did me. I climbed to the top, and there were three rooms. One led to God, but none of us were up to meeting him in the end. I did catch a glimpse, though, while I was watching the universe end in the third room along. And don't ask me to tell you about either the end of everything or about God, because I still haven't figured it out.

So I caught a hold of life again, but in the end? He's still out there, still plotting, and we didn't stop him. I'm not even convinced we slowed him down. And I'm dead. A point his way. But I have no intention of letting that stop me. Because I mightn't have his perspective, his power or any of the rest, but I intend to get him back.

My name is Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. Look me up. I'm not going anywhere.


	2. Chapter 2

If you're here, and didn't come the normal way, you have questions. What is death? A river? A woman? A desert? Well to me, it felt a lot like my body burning like candle-wax at the hands of someone I trusted absolutely, which is just as agonizing as it sounds in every possible definition of the word. Which just goes to show, don't teach anyone to burn other people like candlewax. If we could all master that, the world would be a happier place, because I don't see us getting rid of betrayal anytime soon.  
>The Woman, River and Desert came later, roughly in that order. The woman was young and old, kind and cruel and a few other adjectives. She gave me some gentle encouragement, which is really what I needed to hear, then sent me on my way. I then lay down and floated up the great dark river on to the great beyond. I didn't see a boatmen who gets paid in silver coins, but I was later assured Charon is there too, but it's a big river and a little boat.<p>

I did see a lot of souls stuck in the water as I was pulled up, flotsam on the surface struggling against the current. Apparently, that's what happens to those bound by use of necromancy, which was a little disturbing, but fortunately I wasn't selected to be made into the servant of some hood-wearing cliche who aught to meet more girls, and came to the end, to be immediately confronted with more trials and tribulations. Then came the silvery desert beneath cyclopean stars, which you cross alone, and on the other side, this.

It's a wonderful city, Purgatory, and I mean that in that special way which means impossible to describe, but never boring (contrary to popular belief). A bit of New York, A bit of Chicago, a bit of Manchester and London and Paris and everywhere else (literally, I recognize the parts), all blended together into a hodgepodge of sheer, uninviting stone surfaces, narrow backstreets and alleys, and leering gargoyles, choked with fog, indistinct shapes and perpetual rain.

If you're not ready to pass on, you find a room in one of the buildings that isn't occupied , and make your home in the city, then try to come to terms with your life. If your confident, then you just have to cross through to the gates up at the exit terminal (Highway and a staircase. Apparently the Supreme being listens to music as well). Judgements on the other side. It's as simple as it sounds, but simple isn't the same as easy. Everybody doubts themselves, and when you come to those gates it's easy to question yourself. It's easier to just stay here.

And then there are the intruders. Souls are a power source for the eldritch beings beyond the veil. Of course, most of them can't just reach over and snatch them, but that doesn't stop them preying on the weak, vulnerable spirits. It's so easy and there is so much of it that most get away with it as well.  
>All sorts show up, Demons of every description mostly, all looking for a last temptation. Of course, all supernatural beings have to obey the rules specific to their kind, they can't just drag you into the back of their car and drive off like a poorly thought out kidnapping. They have to leverage you into contract, so that they can claim ownership. Like how Leprechauns must grant wishes when caught, and Selkies belong to those who own their skin.<p>

Unfortunately, it's pretty easy to leverage people here. And that's where we come in. We keep them from turning men astray out of fear, desperation or confusion and being dragged into other hells. Only a trickle would make it to the pearly gates otherwise, as it is most do turn away for a time first. It takes unusual strength of character to walk right in and accept your fate.

We have a station run by guardian angels, and we keep the bad things out as best we can (which is pretty good, but hardly faultless). Some of us do it out of charity, some as a sort of penance (quiet, brooding men for the most part), some because it's who they are, and it suits them, some because it's their purpose. I don't judge. I do it myself because I'm not ready to let go of the world just yet.  
>It's pretty noble, but then, if we were really so noble why are we all afraid of what lies beyond the gate? Because that's what it's about in the end, putting off judgement. Your illusions are the first thing to go.<br>Whenever I do meet another soul, I ask for news. Most tell me things from worlds I've never heard of, others tell of people I'll probably meet, sooner or later.

I turned up my collar to try to keep the rain out (I was already soaked, it didn't do any good) and tried to focus.

A large hand seized my shoulder and turned me, forcing to look up into the face of a heavyset man with dirty-blonde hair, glaring daggers. As always, he put one in mind of a lion, somehow. As a member of the police force that kept the bad things out of the city, he had to be a hard bastard, and you couldn't find a harder, more bastardly man then this immoral man of principles. Gene Hunt.

"Don't be wanting to go that way." He said gruffly. "Last time anyone ventured that way, we never heard from him again. Nor the dozen men we sent to get him back."

I said we did our best. But there is only so much we can do. I don't know what happens to a dead ghost, but nonexistence would be my bet.

"I was just thinking." 

"Well stow it, you nonce. You're on the clock. There's a clan of Oni causing trouble downtown. Haven't laid a hand on anyone, just smashing things, but it's a matter of time." He flicks the corner of his head to indicate where he meant. "So I thought, this looks like just the thing for Harry Dresden. So get on with it." His piece said, he turned and withdrew to go find someone to terrorize. He was more force of nature then police officer. I sighed, fixed my coat, and went to go do as he said, calling up my magic. My name is Harry Dresden, and I have unfinished business. If you come this way, look me up before you pass on to pastures greener. We could both use the company.


End file.
